Pwease
by MGMK
Summary: Maya-verse; She's got them all, all of them, wrapped around her teeny, tiny, little finger.


**Disclaimer:** Don't own. Just borrowing.

**Author's Note:** Oh my God it's been like forever. I apologize immensely. And, I'm not even too sold on the quality of this piece. Like, I'm pretty sure it reads like the scattered collection of seemingly unrelated snippets that it is so I apologize for that as well. If I could summarize this, I'd call it random domesticity (That was almost the title). Anyway, here goes nothing. Un-beta'd so I own all typos, mistakes. Glee characters are not mine as always and…perhaps a little feedback may help me get back into the writing saddle (*hint, hint*).

* * *

There are times when Brittany tries to pinpoint just where Maya gets some of her behaviors.

Like, she knows the cup thing – that still happens on occasion, much to Santana's ever-growing dissatisfaction – is from Sam.

And the random, rambling, mostly unintelligible rants are definitely – _definitely_ – a Santana thing.

But, sometimes, her little girl does something so uniquely…unique that she can't help but call it a Maya thing.

Like, right now.

Maya's bouncing on Kurt's lap while they – Brittany, Santana, and Kurt – listen to Santana's album, trying to help decide between the ballad or the club banger for her next single.

"I like the slow one," Brittany says, slyly grabbing Santana's hand and intertwining their fingers together. "Your voice gives me goose bumps."

"The good kind, right?" Santana enquires, rubbing her thumb across Brittany's knuckles.

"Always," Brittany grins, folding her legs underneath her more comfortably on the couch.

Santana starts to quietly sing along to the song, just enough to be heard over the music pouring from her phone and Maya, always a fan, starts to clap along to the music, remarkably on-rhythm.

Maya's really grooving too, Brittany notes with a proud smile, until…well, until Kurt starts to chime in.

Maya's tiny hands still when Kurt starts to harmonize with Santana, adding a deep tone to the track and he actually sounds pretty good but Maya?

She doesn't think so.

Maya pulls herself into a standing position, her sock-covered feet standing atop Kurt's thighs as she places both hands over his mouth, effectively silencing him.

"Uncy Kurt. No sing," she says, then smiles at him cutely before adding, "Pweeaase?" in her sweetest, baby girl voice.

Kurt blinks, looking over at them with a perplexed look on his face. Santana snickers as Brittany giggles.

"I think I just got sweet-talked by a toddler," he mutters, his lips tickling Maya's palm.

Yeah, Brittany has no idea where Maya gets _that_.

* * *

Santana's trying to stay incognito.

It was sometime between feeding Maya lunch and waiting for Brittany to come home that the craving hit so when Brittany finally did step inside their humble abode Santana was literally shoving her back out the door, hell bent on a family trip to BreadtiX.

But, see?

She's kind of famous now; so these random trips have a tendency to be a little nerve-wracking when she has to smile, pose for pictures and sign autographs.

It's not that Santana isn't grateful or anything – years of hard work and dedication are finally starting to pay dividends – but it's tough to be all cheery and shit when all she really wants to do is bury her face inside a bucket of freshly-baked, savory goodness.

"Good evening ladies. I'm Eduardo and I'll be your waiter this evening," a young Hispanic man says, sliding up to them with a ready pen and pad. "Are you ready to order?" he asks, directing the question to Brittany.

Brittany opens her mouth to speak but is cut off by Santana jumping the gun…loudly.

"Breadsticks," she practically shouts, causing both Brittany and Maya eye her oddly in response.

"O…kay," Eduardo says slowly, scribbling that down, "An order of breadsticks. Anythi-"

"No," Santana says, shaking her head, her eyes still hidden behind shades, "Not an order of breadsticks. All the breadsticks. The ones ready to go, the ones supposed to go to other tables, the ones in the oven. Every. Breadstick. You have."

Eduardo pauses, his eyes squinting as he scrutinizes her. But then his jaw drops. "Holy shit. You're Santana Lopez."

Santana starts playing with the corner of her napkin but Brittany frowns up at Eduardo, covering Maya's ears.

"Language," Brittany hisses.

"I'm sorry," Eduardo is quick to say, smiling apologetically. "But you are, aren't you?"

Santana presses her lips together, not wanting the commotion at all – bye bye chow down night – but Brittany answers for her, reaching over to cover Santana's hand.

"Santana Pierce," Brittany corrects with a proud smile, "And there's a large bill in it for you if you a) keep that under wraps and 2) make sure that we never run out of breadsticks tonight. Also, we'll just have whatever tonight's special is."

"Okay," Eduardo nods, smiling like an idiot. "Okay, I can do that. Definitely. Wow."

With many looks back behind him, Eduardo goes to the kitchen to retrieve the food, much to Brittany's amusement.

"It's so entertaining watching guys fawn all over you," Brittany says, grinning as she looks back to her wife. "It's like it just doesn't compute that they're never gonna get it."

"Well I'm glad you find it amusing," Santana murmurs, rolling her eyes. "Sorry Britt-Britt," she says with a sigh. "I know you just wanted a nice night out."

"What are you talking about?" Brittany says, tapping her fingers against Maya's tray-top. "We're fine. Plus, I mean, it's a little flattering."

Santana's brow furrows. "What is?"

"Being married to a superstar," Brittany says, delighting in Santana's shy look.

"I'm not a superstar," she murmurs, using her free hand to tug her hood down further.

"I beg to differ," Brittany says softly, looking at Santana adoringly.

They both get so wrapped up in each other that they don't notice the person approaching until Maya's grinning up at them.

"Hi," the baby girl says, grinning so that her new tiny teeth are showing.

"Well, hello there," a man says.

Santana looks over at the stranger – well, definitely not a stranger to her – and feels the color drain from her face.

"Jeremy Butler," she manages to stutter out, her jaw quite literally dropping to the floor.

"So, you do remember me?" the man said, smiling down at Santana.

Santana can't help smiling back.

Santana remembers Jeremy all too well.

Freshman year, first real boyfriend, first…ahem, time.

And the years have been good to Jeremy, too. He still looks like the same kid, just a little broader in the shoulders and more facial hair.

"Of course I do," she says, kindly, the initial shock fully worn off now. But just as she gets her bearings back, so do her surroundings become clear again, and she realizes with a jolt that Brittany's almost squeezing the dear life out of her hand.

One look over at her wife confirms it.

Brittany remembers Jeremy too.

"And you remember Brittany, don't you?" she says, nodding her head in Brittany's direction and Jeremy's eyes shift and grow in recognition.

"Wow, yes. Of course I do," Jeremy laughs before turning his full attention back to Santana. " Best friend Brittany. You two were inseparable. Guess that's still the case, huh?"

Santana's just about to answer, just about to clarify things for Mr. Jeremy and let him know who Britney really is to her, but Eduardo comes back, food in hand.

"Excuse me," the guy says, sliding in between the high chair and the booth, awkwardly moving Jeremy closer to Santana's side. "Okay, so I got as many breadsticks as I could. And, I know you said not to, but today's special was super lame and I wanted the Chef to whip up the Sunday one instead and he only decided to do it after I told him who you were. But he's the only one, I swear. And I made him promise or I'd kill his first born child."

"Oh my God, that's terrible," Brittany says, her eyes widening in shock as she looks at him.

Eduardo shrugs. "Well, I mean, I'm his first born child so…Enjoy ladies." He starts to leave and seemingly just notices Jeremy. "Uh, hey," Eduardo starts awkwardly, "Is this guy bothering you?"

"No. No bother. He'll be leaving in a minute," Santana answers before Brittany can, seeing the yes written in her wife's blue eyes.

"Do I have to leave?" Jeremy asks, shuffling on his feet awkwardly. "I was hoping to join you guys. You know? Catch up?"

"Um," Santana starts, her eyes darting to Brittany who furrows her brows in annoyance, directing all her attention to Maya to keep calm. "We're actually trying to have a family night out," she explains.

"Who is?" Jeremy says, instantly confused. "You mean, you and…Brittany?" he asks, looking at Brittany in an entirely different light. He looks down at the baby, giggling as she gnaws on a breadstick and then looks between Brittany and Santana, notices the way their fingers are locked together on top of the table.

"Oh," Jeremy says, the pieces finally fitting together. He smiles sheepishly. "So, you and Brittany," he says again, not a question.

Santana nods, watching Brittany bite her lip a little. "And Maya," Santana adds happily, smiling at her daughter who looks at her upon hearing her name. "Mama," Maya mumbles, mouth full of bread.

"I'm sorry guys," Jeremy says, his eyes round and apologetic. "I swear I didn't know."

"It's cool," Santana shrugs, squeezing Brittany's hand a little. Her wife finally relaxes, squeezing back.

"Yeah, it's fine," Brittany finally speaks up, looking at him with a somewhat forced smile. "No worries."

"Well," Jeremy says, rocking back on his heels a little, "I'll just let you guys get back to dinner."

He finally shuffles away, once again leaving the two women and Maya to their privacy.

"That was weird," Santana says, once he's out of earshot.

Brittany reaches for her pasta with her left hand, swirling some of the noodles around the prongs of her fork. "I take it back," she says before shoving the fork inside her mouth, chewing quickly.

Santana frowns in confusion, tilting her head in question. "You take what back?"

"I no longer find guys fawning over you entertaining," Brittany states once she's swallowed, aggressive as she twirls herself another forkful of pasta. "Only gay guys can do it now. And, they have to be really, _really_ gay. Like, Kurt Hummel married Brian Kenny and had a love child that married a Liberace clone and then they procreated and that kid was so gay, he called himself Homer S. Ual. I'm talking _that_ gay."

Brittany finally looks up again and Santana smiles at her, her nose even crinkling a little.

"What?" Brittany asks, not quite able to stop her own lips from quirking up.

Santana shrugs, reaching with her free hand to grab a breadstick. "Nothing, just…I love you too."

* * *

"Hey, I'm gonna go take this in the bedroom, okay?" Santana says, stooping down low to press a quick kiss to Brittany's lips.

Brittany returns it and peers up at her questioningly, her sketches forgotten momentarily. "Why?"

"It's Reggie," Santana quickly explains. "And I'm pretty sure I have to rip him a new one so…"

"Oh," Brittany smiles knowingly. "Okay."

She watches Santana walk away because…well, just because. She doesn't need a reason.

She liked it.

She put a ring on it.

And now she stares at it whenever she damn well pleases.

But, now that Santana's out of view, she gets back to her work, putting her feet up on the couch cushion Santana's abandoned.

Then, she gets another guest.

"Mama?" Maya says, crawling over from where she's been quietly playing with her toys. "What doing?"

She pulls herself up into a standing position, alongside the couch and looks down at the ticks and lines all over Brittany's paper.

"Mommy's working, Pumpkin," Brittany answers, leaning down to press a kiss to Maya's forehead, much to the girl's amusement.

"Worky?" Maya giggles. "Mama cotor."

"I'm not coloring," Brittany laughs, poking Maya in the nose with her drafting pencil.

"I cotor?" Maya asks, once she's finished giggling. "_Pwease_?"

"You want to work too?" Brittany asks, chuckling when Maya nods so enthusiastically she almost loses her balance. Wordlessly, Brittany grabs her notebook from underneath the pile and rips out a few sheets of paper, handing them over to Maya and giving her a marker.

"Just be careful, Pumpkin," Brittany cautions, her face devoid of any amusement to convey her seriousness. "Don't get the marker on the floor. Only write on the paper, okay?"

Maya, over the top at having the new supplies, nods again before plopping down unceremoniously on the floor, facing Brittany.

Brittany watches her set to scribbling on the paper, the little girl being extra careful like her mother warned and after a few seconds she goes back to her own work.

It's a few seconds later before she realizes what Maya's doing.

Brittany's adjusting the length of one of the walls, her tongue poking out just a little as she erases her previous dimensions when she happens to see Maya concentrating hard on erasing as well.

When Brittany stops suddenly, Maya looks up, wondering what's going on.

She holds Brittany's stare for a moment before grinning widely. "Mama cotor," she directs, and Brittany obliges gleefully already interested in where this new game is gonna go.

She draws a few more lines and unintentionally makes another mistake. "No, that's not right," she murmurs to herself.

"No, nah wigh," Maya echoes.

"Are you copying Mommy, Pumpkin?" Brittany asks the little girl, raising an eyebrow as she looks at the little girl.

Maya giggles a little, her curly hair bouncing as she nods again and Brittany throws down the drafting notebook before quickly reaching for her daughter and tickling her with vigor.

Maya squeals delightedly, tucking her tiny fists under her chin as she laughs.

* * *

"Hi Santana, you're on speaker," Brittany quickly greets, activating the car's blue tooth service.

Santana's chuckles ruminates around the car's cab. "_You act like you thought I was going to say something dirty_."

Brittany giggles. "Well, we have been texting each other on and off all day."

"Hi Mama," Maya interrupts, chirping from her car seat.

"_Hey Princess_," Santana says, rapidly changing gears and tones. "_Okay, so, don't get mad_," she adds, addressing Brittany again.

"Why would I get mad?"

"_I'm going to be more than just a little late for dinner_," Santana says quickly, her voice just that tad bit anxious and Brittany sighs against her will.

"San…"

"_I know, I know. It's just, we got caught up here at the studio and we're really making a lot of leeway, babe, and_-"

"I know," Brittany interrupts, not needing the lengthy explanation. She gets it, she does. Doesn't mean she can't be bummed about it though.

"_I'm still gonna make it, Britt. I promise_."

"You know what? It's fine," Brittany says, making a right now instead of the left to take them back home. "I needed to make a quick grocery run for the desert I wanted to make anyway so it works out."

"_K_," Santana says through a sigh, clearly relieved. "_I'll see you in a bit, hugs and kisses for my best girls. Love you both_."

"Love you, Nuh," Maya near-screeches in the background, making both Brittany and Santana chuckle.

"See you later, sweetheart," Brittany echoes, ending the call. She looks up at Maya in the rear-view mirror. "So, Maya, feel like going to the grocery store real quick?"

"No," Maya answers, shaking her head.

"But Mommy needs to get something, Pumpkin."

"No, no, no," Maya stands – well sits – firm. "No sore."

"How about…you let Mommy go to the store and Mommy will let you listen to one Giggles song on the way even though lately the Giggles have been turning Mommy's brain to mush?"

Maya doesn't quite look like she caught that question. "No sore, Mama," she mumbles through an adorable little pout. "_Pwease_?"

Brittany knows it'll only take one look before her resolve is broken but she does it anyway.

Damn.

"Okay, Pumpkin. You win. No store," Brittany concedes, not having the heart to be firm. She raises a brow at her little one's triumphant, four-tooth filled, smile. "You're quite the charmer there Miss Maya Alexis."

Maya only grins wider. "May Wexie is _wrewree_ smar."

"Maya Alexis _is_ really smart," Brittany laughs, turning on the radio until those ridiculous grown men start singing about the sun. Maya quickly gets wrapped up in the song, the previous conversation already fading in her memory.

Brittany hits her turning signal again with a smirk, the grocery store sign looming large in the distance.

"You _are _smart, Pumpkin," she whispers to herself, mindful of the tiny ears otherwise occupied in the backseat, "But Mommy's a friggin' genius."

* * *

Santana's about to answer the doorbell but Brittany beats her to it, yelling out an 'I got it' as she rushes from the bedroom past the kitchen so Santana virtually pays it no mind, confident that Brittany can handle whoever it is without assistance.

It isn't until she's turned over her sixth chicken tender that she realizes something's not quite right.

Turning off the stovetop and moving the still sizzling pan to the back of the stove, carefully away from tiny little curious fingers, Santana makes her way into the living room and…no.

Dear God no.

"Why, hello Santana," Rachel sys brightly, still standing in the doorway. Finn's towering alongside her, a lopsided grin on his face as he waves overly enthusiastic.

But no, it's not the fact that the grown man-boy and the tiny (some ridiculous nickname for Rachel) are in her living room that has her out of sorts – even though it should.

No, she's more so concerned with the wriggling ball of fur her wife is currently giggling with and snuggling like Love-A-Lot Bear.

(Don't judge. Maya's gotten into the Care Bears recently.)

"No," Santana says plainly, settling her hands firmly on her hips.

"Wait, hear me out," Rachel says quickly, stepping around the duo on the floor.

"Are the next words out of your mouth going to be 'I'm sorry for infringing on the peace and quiet of your home, Santana. I'll take this mangy mutt away pronto and you'll never hear from me again unless it's to give you an obscene amount of money or a BreadstiX franchise'?"

Rachel frowns. "Well no."

"Then no. I shall not hear you out. Take the thing and _your_ thing and go," Santana reiterates, pointing at the door.

"Santana," Brittany laughs from the floor, the puppy licking at her hand, "Look. It's a puppy."

"I know what it is," Santana frowns, watching them with a growing sense of dread.

"It's our puppy," Brittany goes on to say and Santana's eyes just about fall out of her head.

"It's what?!"

"That's what I've been trying to tell you," Rachel states quickly, moving closer and taking Santana's arm gently so as to lead her into the living room and away from the various pieces of art that could double as murder weapons.

Rachel's no fool.

"You know how Finn has been going on about starting a family because nearly everyone else is and I, though not completely reticent to the idea, have respectfully and consistently declined because it's not the right time for me due to my career?" Rachel asks in nearly one breath.

Santana just blinks at her. "No."

"Right," Rachel says, smiling tightly. "You don't actually listen to the things I say. Well, anyway, we have been having that particular discussion, so I, being the thoughtful and compassionate person I am, proposed a compromise."

She gestures behind her to where Brittany and Finn are still in the foyer, both enjoying the little puppy a bit too much in Santana's opinion.

"A dog?"

"A puppy," Rachel corrects.

"You bought a dog?"

"We adopted a puppy."

"So…" Santana starts, trying to get a handle on the logic, "…instead of having a baby, a genetic combination of both you and Finn, that you can love and cherish and that'll serve as a living, breathing, _being_ reminder of the love you have for one another, you guys bought a walking slobber factory with fleas?"

Rachel's smile falls. "Well, when you say it like _that_-"

"Okay, and issue number two, if you two bought a walking slobber factory with fleas why is Brittany calling it ours?"

"Well…"

Santana doesn't like the sound of that.

"…when we went to the shelter to adopt, the mother had just given birth so it was like perfect timing but I thought it'd be incredibly inhumane to separate the siblings from one another – it was bad enough that they would be removed from their mother – so we took them all. Only, Finn's not remotely capable of taking care of _all_ of them and I'm away from home virtually every other day, so we needed to find other homes for the remaining puppies and luckily enough for you, you're one of the finalists. So, yay?"

Rachel concludes her speech with a hesitant smile and an even more hesitant fist pump.

Santana's eye twitches.

Rachel squeaks when Santana lunges for her, only narrowly avoiding the flailing hands by ducking out of the way.

"Damn your mutant height deficiency," Santana murmurs when she only comes up with air before spinning on her heel and making another go for her but she's stopped quite suddenly by an even tinier person, one bright brown eye blinking up at her while her fist rubs furiously at the other.

"Mama," Maya says, her voice soft from being fresh off of slumber, "May wan' eat."

Rachel, and Santana swears she will spend the rest of her natural days paying her back for this, jumps on the opportunity and points at the puppy frantically. "Look Maya, look. Aunty Rachel and Uncle Finn brought you a puppy."

Maya squints at her curiously before peeking into the foyer where lo and behold Brittany is sitting cross-legged on the floor, petting the tiny golden retriever and the little girl's eyes light up as she toddles over quickly.

"Is doggy!" she squeals sounding beyond delighted as she throws herself at the thing, frightening the puppy just a bit before it gets it's bearings back and charges her, making her giggle freely. "Is doggy, Mama!" she tells Brittany, seemingly unafraid of the thing.

"I see," Brittany laughs, bending down to kiss Maya on the cheek.

"Is my doggy?" she asks, laughing when the puppy licks her palm.

"I don't know," Brittany shrugs, looking over to Santana. "You have to ask your Mommy."

"Mama," Maya all but yells in her baby voice. "Is my doggy? Is my?"

Santana looks down at her hopeful daughter, battle already half-lost. She sighs, "Princess…"

Maya looks up at Santana, her eyes shimmering with hope as she smiles. "_Pwease_?"

Defeated.

Santana nods.

"Yay," Maya cheers, gleefully giggling as the puppy tackles her gently.

Santana's eyes close.

"Touch me and I'll replace all of your Streisand albums with the Baha Men Greatest Hits," she murmurs warningly, keeping her voice low so as to remain undetected by innocent ears.

Rachel slowly retracts her hand.


End file.
